


Not as Advertised

by orphan_account



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Aged down Elliot, And the Wellick baby was born several years earlier, Babysitter Elliot, CTO Tyrell, Disabled Character, Elliot is about 18 or 19 years old, Elliot is less crazy than in Canon, F/M, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, The Wellick kid is mute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9635717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The one where Elliot is confused all the time, Joanna and Tyrell fall in love with their boy toy, and sometimes there are happy endings.AKA Babysitting AU except there's really very little babysitting involved.





	1. Worth the Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! So, Elliot is about 18 years old-- and the Wellick child (Johan) is about 6 years old.

Hello. Hi. I'm sorry, I don't really know how to start this. But that's okay, since you're my imaginary friend. You're in my head. 

I made you because I need you. And maybe because I want you, too. The lines seem to blur. But anyways, I need your help.

I know, I know, everyday life shouldn't require me to have a 24 hour daily confidant but I think it does. I need you to help me to keep from unraveling. And maybe to tell me how to deal with kids-- but you don't really talk much, do you?

You seem pretty quiet, but I know you're there. I know you are. Why? Because you need to be.

Oh, but anyways, kids. Or maybe kid is more accurate. Or maybe parents is more accurate. Honestly the kid seems pretty well behaved. The parents are scary, though. Actually... intimidating is a better word.

“ _ Bonsoir _ , Elliot.”

No, scary.

“Hi,” I don't know what bonsoir means, but it sounds like a hello. These people, the Wellicks, are terrifying. I'm sitting on their couch and I'm terrified.

Even the kid. He stares. I guess I stare, too, but at least I try not to.

“Elliot, would you like a cup of coffee? Or maybe some tea?” It's the woman this time. She's beautiful. Not that I'm going to say anything about it. Actually, they're both beautiful.

“Uh,” I look away so that I'm not staring. I realize I haven't answered. “No.” I pause, “Thank you.”

Sometimes social graces still escape me. Maybe you can help with that.

The woman-- what was her name? Joanna? She smiles and it makes me nervous. “Well then,” she gestures to the boy. He's still staring. “This is our son, Johan.” 

He stays quiet. He stares. He makes me nervous.

The man, Tyrell, he talks next. “Can you tell us more about yourself?” Shit.

What should I say? Nevermind, you don't know. I don't know why I asked you at all. Shit.

“I'm Elliot.” They already know that. They seem to think it's funny. Fuck. “I like computers.” Better. “I have a little sister. She's two years younger.” Good. “Her name is Darlene.” They don't care about Darlene. Probably? I can't tell. The woman, Joanna, she seems interested. But she might just be really nice. She's probably just really nice.

“You're the CTO of E Corp.” Shit, that's not what I was supposed to say. Why didn't you stop me?

“Interim CTO,” he corrects. He still seems proud, though. Joanna pats his knee gently and I watch.

Is that socially acceptable? I don’t know. The watching, I mean. I think it's fine for a woman to pat her husband's knee, no matter the company.

“He'll be appointed CTO within the next few weeks.” She sounds so sure that I can't help but believe her. I wonder how they're so sure. I'm never that sure of anything.

“Okay.” What else is there to say? It seems so final.

Tyrell looks amused, now. I wonder if I have something on my face. “So, Elliot,” Why does he have to sound like he's purring? “You came for the babysitting job, didn't you?”

I nod, my eyes darting down to the kid. Johan. He's not staring anymore. He's eating a cookie. “Yeah.”

When I look back up she-- Joanna-- is smiling again. They don't seem to mind long pauses. They being the Wellicks. “Why do you want the job?” It's Tyrell who asks.

“I need the money.” Shit. I should've said it's because I want kids.

Joanna laughs and Tyrell smiles like I have the right answer. Maybe I did. I relax slightly. “So, you read the article, the ad we put out?”

Yes, I did. Right before I hacked them. They're seemingly perfect. They're happy. They make me nervous. “Yeah,” I look down at the kid again. He looks like he wants to leave. Just like me. “I read it.”

It's Joanna’s turn to purr, it seems. She leans forward. It makes presses her tits together and up. It might look nice if I actually bothered to look. “So you know what the job entails.” 

My eyebrows pinch together and I look away. “Yes?” It's not supposed to be a question. Her voice implies that I missed something, though. I don't get it.

Tyrell and Joanna both laugh. It makes me jump, slightly. I don't want to be here. Tyrell says, “You know that you'll be here with Joanna, then?” 

I nod slowly. The ad has mentioned that only one of them worked. Why do they need me? “Why do you need me?” Shit. I wasn't supposed to ask that out loud.

“I miss the company.” Joanna is the one that answers, but there's a cat like quality to her voice. I'm so fucking confused.

“So I'm not a babysitter?” Will I be taking care of the kid or not. I might need your help. I feel like I'm in a lion’s den.

Or maybe I'm underwater and these are the sharks.

I don't want to be here.

“You'll help with Johan when Joanna asks for it, if it's necessary.” I look at Tyrell, he seems to be working up to a punchline. “Your job will be to cater to Joanna’s desires.”

Desires? That sounds a lot like-- “I don't do sex.” I pause, uncomfortable. “That was about sex, right?” Shit, what if it wasn't about sex.

Tyrell smiles but doesn't answer. I look to Joanna. “It doesn't have to be sex,” she answers.

I want to be relieved, but, “That doesn't discount sex.” I'm confused. “Aren't you two married?”

Isn't this, like, infidelity or something? You're on my side, right? This is crazy?

Johan gets up and leaves. I wonder if that's okay-- neither Tyrell or Joanna seem very concerned. Tyrell says, “We are married, happily in fact. But I'm very busy at work, you see?” I don't understand what that has to do with anything, but I nod.

“Okay.” 

Joanna smiles. I can't tell if she actually likes me.

I can't tell if either of them like me.

They're sharks. You see it, too, don't you?

Tyrell stands. I stand, too. I think it's over-- I don’t want sex and that's what they wanted.

Tyrell steps close to me. Closer, I think, than the socially accepted distance. It makes me uncomfortable.

“Will you accept the job?” I'm confused.

What? “What?”

“The job is open to you, Elliot. I want you to come work here, where you belong-- with us.” I can feel him looking at my face, but I look away. 

“Can I…” I swallow, looking everywhere but at either of the Wellicks. “Can I think about it?”

Tyrell puts a hand on my shoulder, even when I instinctively shy away. He says, “Of course.” Like I’ve already said yes.

Joanna stands, smoothing out her dress as she does so.

She's beautiful.

I want to leave. 

“Can I go, now?” I hope that doesn't sound rude.

“Tyrell will show you to the door.” Joanna has a warm voice. It makes me nervous.

Tyrell does show me to the door, though. He even asks me if I need a ride home. He doesn't seem upset when I say no. He says, “Call me at this number if you decide you want the job.” I don't realize that he's trying to hard me a piece of paper until he grabs my hand and presses it into my palm. 

“Okay, um, see you.”

“ _ Farväl _ , Elliot.”


	2. Omelettes are Hard

I end up calling the number 3 days later. Should I have waited longer? I did two other job interviews but the people who I was supposed to talk to-- we both know that I'm bad at talking. But so are you, though. I don't think that makes it any better, actually, since you're a part of me-- they didn't like me.

Tyrell and Joanna seemed to like me, though. Should I call them Mr. and Ms. Wellick? Now that I work for them, I mean.

Fuck. I knock on their door.

Their house is really nice. “Hello, Mr. Wellick.”

He smiles. It makes me uncomfortable. “  _ Bonsoir  _ , Elliot. And call me Tyrell.” 

Shit. “Okay.” I look away, down at the straps of my backpack where my hands pull them away from my shoulders. “Tyrell.”

He's a shark. He invites me inside. His suit doesn't look scratchy like my dress shirts usually are, but it looks constricting. The tightness of his tie makes it hard for me to breathe. He says, “Joanna is this way,” and leads me past the living room.

I think, for a second, that we're going to their bedroom.

We go to a bedroom. But not theirs. The bed is small and there's a chest overflowing with toys. I never had that many toys. Joanna has Johan in her lap. He's asleep. 

She's a very nice mother.

She makes me uncomfortable.

I don't say anything, but Tyrell speaks in that quiet language that I don't recognize. I only catch Johan’s name.

I watch the boy but he doesn't stir. It's simultaneously relieving at the same time it makes me shake with stress. Sometimes kids are easier than adults. Joanna responds and she sounds different than he did, like a different language, maybe. 

I can't really tell.

I stand, awkwardly, waiting for the moment to be over. Tyrell is working today, that's why I'm here-- why he is in a suit. 

I have to remind myself that he's CTO of Evil Corp.

He and Joanna don't seem very evil, even if they're sharks.

Sharks don’t concern themselves with things outside of the ocean. And they don't like the taste of human flesh.

At least that's what I read. I don't really know. I’ve never met a shark before. 

Shit. I think Joanna just said something to me. I look up.

“What?” I should be more polite. She smiles anyways.

She glances down, maneuvering the sleeping Johan out of her lap with an expertise that makes me avert my eyes. She's quiet until she nears us-- me and Tyrell. “I asked if you would help me make breakfast. Tyrell usually does the cooking but I’ve been trying to learn.

I say, “I can't cook.” Because I can’t. I top out at making instant ramen and poached eggs. Even then, sometimes I break the yolk in the water or burn the toast.

“We’ll learn together.” Why does she have to sound so nice? It's scratching that part of my brain that says there can't just be good things.

I want to find the drawback.

I can't.

“Okay.” I wish I could put my hood up, but we're inside. I'm probably lucky Tyrell let me wear my coat past the door. 

She walks past both of us. I look at Tyrell, then I follow her. He follows me. Shouldn’t he be leaving already?

Joanna stops at the island. I stop behind her, flinching away when she turns to look at me. “So,” I say. I don’t like these silences as much as they seem to. “Breakfast.” Smooth.

Fuck.

She smiles. Tyrell is close enough to me that I can feel the heat of his chest against my back. He touches my shoulder and ignores my flinch.

"I’ll be leaving, now.” I shrink a bit as he leans past me, saying something in that language I don’t recognize before kissing Joanna. His hand on my shoulder tightens briefly. He says, “  _ Adjö  _ , Elliot.” 

I watch him leave, then watch the door. I bring my hand up to touch my shoulder.

You saw it, too, didn’t you? He was close enough to breathe on my neck. I felt it. His breath.

Joanna is smiling, still. I look at her and wait for her to say something. “So, Elliot. Breakfast.”

I look down, biting the inside of my cheek out of nervous habit. “Yeah,” Is she making fun if me? Shit. This is awkward. “Breakfast.”

She laughs and turns away, opening the fridge and taking out eggs. “I want to try making an omelette.”

Making an omelette doesn’t sound easy. I did her that I can’t cook, didn’t I? “What if we mess up?” We probably will mess up. Unless she’s good at making omelettes. I don’t know.

“Then we have plenty of eggs.” Joanna looks amused. I think I might be staring. “You should look up a recipe on your phone.”

She knows I have a phone? 

What the fuck am I asking. Everyone has a phone. That kid-- Johan-- he probably has a phone.

I nod, “Okay.”

It’s pretty easy to find a recipe online. I’m not used to looking up mundane shit like omelette recipes. It’s still easy, though.

I hear her hum and when I look up she’s holding a pan. It doesn’t look quite right, but when she asks, “This one?” I say, “Sure.” Because I don’t really know.

She laughs and says, “Can I see the recipe?” It’s hard not to hesitate before I give her the phone.

I'm not used to giving other people my things.

We makes breakfast and ruin it twice before Joanna figures out that we’re using the wrong pan. She apologizes and doesn’t seem angry when I tell her I knew we were using the wrong one the whole time. 

Instead she has me clean the pan while she looks for the correct one. She ends uptexting Tyrell and he tells us where to find it because, in her words, “We’re hopeless on our own.”

Joanna is really nice.

Johen wakes up when I knock over a cup and swear loudly as it breaks. Joanna tells me its okay and gives me the broom.

Something tells me I’m going to be doing a lot of cleaning.

Johen glares at me from down the hall.

I wonder if he’s not a morning person, or if he just doesn’t like me. It’s probably me. Most kids don’t like me.

I cut myself on the glass but I don’t tell Joanna. The bleeding has stopped by the time she returns, anyways. Johen returns with her, and when I wave, he waves back. I think it’s a good start.

I don’t think I’ve heard him say anything, yet, though. I wonder if he’s quiet like me.

Joanna tells him that he can watch cartoons while they finish making breakfast. I kind of want to ask if I can go watch cartoons, too.

I don’t ask.

I hear the TV turn on and I listen. I can’t tell what show it is. Joanna makes a happy sound and stands up. She had been rustling around in a cabinet. 

She says, “The pot.” And I almost laugh. Instead I nod, my lips twitching up, slightly.

I think I might like Joanna.

She’s nice.

I say, “You’ve got a nice laugh.”

I almost regret it, but then she smiles. 

I smile, too.

She says, “You’ve got a nice smile.”

I don’t stop smiling, but I do stop looking at her. It’s been awhile since someone complimented me that wasn’t Angela or Darlene.

Our next attempt at an omelette is a successful one.

The time I spend there is spent mostly with Joanna-- Johan keeps to himself. He's really quiet. It's not very often that I mean someone quieter than me, but he is. I still don't think I’ve heard him say anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment and recommend anything for future chapters! This is unbeta'd so please excuse my mistakes:)  
> Also the Swedish is Google Translate so feel free to send me corrections for it!


End file.
